My Regret
by lordxxoftehdance
Summary: This is a story about an immortal man that is trying to find his purpose. First, we start off when he was a little kid when he was taken to Hell and it contiunes from there. The story included gods and goddesses and even the truth about Hell and Heaven.


My Regrets

March 21, 2008 1:44 am

So I sit in this dump of a van, writing on the beautiful pages of this lonely stolen journal. It was way back in California where I broke into 'dead' store, wandered in the broken glass, and stole the lonely journal from its lonely shelf. That was the first time in almost thirty years that I was caught on camera. The first time humans caught me on their precious little tapes was back when they first came out with those machines that buzz and make so much noise, I have to wear earplugs if I feel like 'working'.

The van I sit in now makes so much more noise than jackhammers slamming their way into cold hard pavement. The exterior paint is chipping and rusted from many years of rain and abuse. The interior is stripped completely of the 'comfort' it once had: the ugly orange shag carpet that covered the walls, the smell of the sierra leather seats, and the oh so wonderful stickers of peace signs and lovely quotes of tranquility. The exterior looks no better. The left over paint is an off white that has darkened to yellow and green over the years. The metal handles of the BMW van look so worn, they could fall off. The license plates are no longer there, contributing to the American police pulling me over frequently. The tires are out of shape and look as if they are going to pop or fall off any moment. The van belongs in a car graveyard been though it has carried me across the country.

I never go into your hotels/ I never eat at your greasy fast food 'restaurants'. I only do anything with humans or demons when forced. There is there a tete-a-tete between anyone and myself. That is fine by me, however. I drive through the night and sleep through the day, but not by choice. I'm not a vampire, you fool. Call me a demon. Wait, no, call me a devil.

English is not my primary language. Japanese was at one point in time, but now it's something that doesn't exist on Earth. I believe this is my fourth time written in English, so bare with me if the grammar is horrible. I prefer my smooth and small Devilish script. The ink dried in a fashion that lures me to the parchment like a hawk moth to a lamp. I was that hawk moth and the parchment was my death.

I can speak most of the major language on Earth, but I can read and understand much more than that. I am somewhat educated. Having an unlimited lifetime makes it so very much possible for me to learn over an unlimited amount of time (immortality give me that luxury). It also gives me the ability to get very wealthy, very quickly. I just don't possess the will power to talk to humans to get that money.

I was a god, once upon a time. I have given up my godhead, but I still have so much of my power. I can still mask my body, my scent. I can still kill with a touch. I am still the life line of all beings of darkness and evil. I can still change into anything I wish: a hawk, a white wolf, a woman. I am what Christians call 'Satan', though I don't like that name. I do not consider myself pure evil, even though I am labeled the 'ultimate evil'. Never did, although I was created to be that evil. Over the centuries I have existed, I have fought against that label; that damned label that my 'Father' had given me and himself. That label meant something back then, but now: nothing. That man is dead and so are most of the people that label me as such. But, their influence has led me into believing that height, power, wealth, and intellect meant everything. Such a stupid belief now that I think about it. But in a way, it does in the business world. Height in some countries gets you good and providing jobs or the lowest jobs possible. That leads to your wealth. And but how much wealth you have, the more power you have in thing. And intellect leads to how long you keep the above. So in some sense, it is not a stupid belief. But, being stuck below five feet and not being able to walk in sunshine to get a job leaves me in my loneliness and this stupid van. So I guess I'm still fighting that label. Even now.

I mirror the same image I had when I died with some slight changes. I was fifteen at the time of y death, yet my body was hardly grown due to my malnutrition. Because I have aged and grown somewhat, I still have to flash a fake ID at police when I get pulled over for either driving like a maniac or not having a license plate.

Against your common belief, again, I am not a vampire. Those movies cause me to laugh at the total mistakes that they had placed upon wasted film. Good movies, wrong information. But that label of them being monster causes me to think. Am I those things that run from crosses and sunlight? Am I those that pick off innocents one by one because of my one guilty pleasure? Am I? Yes. Why yes I am.

As this night goes on, I sit in my driver's seat on the side of the road, watching the pen ink dry quickly. I think that if somehow I could get some cold revenge through these pages. Maybe it would make me feel comfort about the life I had made for myself. ..Ha! No! There will never be comfort: something that is not deserved for someone like me. My eyes go to the dirty windshield and see past the dirt and grime on it and into the stars. The gods up there have damned my 'Father' before so they damn me now. They could strike me down now with this insult of a van and it would end all 'evil' that there is in this world. They aren't stupid, however. There must be 'evil' to be 'good'. But gods damn, I have that 'evil' label I have been given. I'm not evil. I've just made mistakes.

I write this because I want my story out in the public. I may just finally wander out of my cage and get this journal published in a fully typed form. However, my story is a bleak one. I have committed sins that damn me to every direction and circle in Hell if possible. I regret all of it, but it's in my blood to lead everything to destruction. I hear those enraged souls in my sleep screaming at me that they are going to kill me if I step one foot back in Hell. I laugh in their faces. I never want to go back.

So I guess what I'm really saying is this: you choose whether to continue reading this or not. I have given you warning, messages, hints of what I can do. So sit down somewhere where you are going to get comfortable.


End file.
